


it's a metaphor, binch

by gottagofast



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Ianpala | Ian Somerhalder as the Impala, fuck the internet is so fucking weird, so whatever if i express emotions sometimes, uuuh i was just thinking like bellamy is the only constant in clarkes life, wow ok hold on look at this fucking tag i just found
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:11:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9642050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottagofast/pseuds/gottagofast
Summary: near-extinction is a time honoured tradition of the human race





	

**Author's Note:**

> sometime in s3 they go back to the dropship and it made me really fucking sad bc it was like they had never lived there at all and soon mt weather is going to look like that GOD

Seeing the dropship site is jarring now. The clearing soft and wet with moss, the ragged scars their fall left in the earth softened by time - it leaves a haunted feeling inside of her, that the anger and fire and joy and rebellion could be lost so easily between the trees. When she sees the clearing the memories, good and bad, that had seemed so clear, polished and smooth from tumbling inside her mind day in day out, were suddenly muffled by the irrefutable truth that they would someday be forgotten. Their footprints had been swallowed, the wall they built sagging. Even the dropship itself, full of blood and witness to a rebirth, was climbing with creepers. The tarp they'd hung for privacy would be eaten and replaced by hanging vines, the metal would bubble and corrode and one day even the ship would disappear, unbecoming.

Everyone who remembered, who’d seen the souls of their lost people flare in space, who had erected a shelter with tarps and string and duct tape, everyone who had survived for so long would die anyways. She had thought the ground was so different from space, but it turns out that echoes die out no matter where you live.

“Now we survive.”

There are some paths she wishes would grow over. Like the feeling of desperation, she wouldn't miss that if one day she woke to find it gone. If her stomach hardened to stone and she never felt hollow dizzying hunger, if she never had to walk on the cusp of death again she would gladly go with him when he came for her in the end.

It's not a comfort to fall back on what she knows, even if it is familiar.

Oh, but Bellamy.

There are pains that can become crutches, if only because they're constant. Bellamy is her touchstone if nothing else. A tether to good constants - warmth, home - reminding her that grief makes poor company.

He has ruined her for letting go. Each time she makes to leave, to let the earth reclaim her past he comes stumbling out of the forest, tracing that old familiar path back to her.

“What now?”

She’d wanted to lose herself in the past and walk stronger ahead into something new, but the dead in Polis now outnumber the living. All her choices are pitfalls and she sees now that there is no such thing as a new beginning if you’re running from yourself. So she's not unhappy when it's Bellamy who is asking, in another language they invented for just themselves, how they are going to limp through this one.

They won't, she thinks staring straight into the rising sun.

 

**Author's Note:**

> haha obviously the title is satire sorry if i lured u in thinking this was going to be fun


End file.
